War Stories: Reunion
War Stories hub page. Summary Post-Corpus takeover. Talon reunites with the Paw Patrol after 3 years, and learns just how much war can change people... Story The Corpus empire was absolutely colossal. So huge, in fact, that, even at light speed, it took hours to traverse. Add to that the time spent dodging Corpus patrols and circumventing larger Corpus installations, and it was a boring trip one would likely want to sleep through. But Talon couldn't, something the bloodhound realized with a sigh as he opened his eye. For one thing, there was that bloody loose panel that wouldn't stop clattering. For another, his mind was abuzz with excitement. Why? Because he was meeting the Paw Patrol, old friends- almost family- that he hadn't seen in three years. Or told that he was even alive. After the helicopter exploded, he decided he'd go back to the military. And he did, for awhile. Then, he was assigned to work with a group of agents from an organization called T.I.C., short for Trussian Intelligence Commission. Talon had shrugged it off at the time. "Just another paramilitary organization that needs to be watched," he'd thought. He chuckled as he tried to piece together what his face must've looked like when the T.I.C. agents pulled out lightsabers. It was literally right out of a Paw Wars movie. Of course, that was nothing compared to finding out T.I.C. operating off an entirely different planet, one even larger than Earth, and that the organization had a full fleet of spaceships. Talon laughed. What had been shockingly futuristic back then was now commonplace. Eventually, he was appointed designated liaison between the US Military and Trussia, and became a full T.I.C. agent. While there, he met a pup called Smoky, who, as luck would have it, was the younger brother of Rocky. Talon had decided to keep his true identity a secret from the trainee. He hadn't been quite ready to get back together with the Patrol. The bloodhound frowned as he remembered what happened next. As it turned out, Ranger and Slash weren't so dead after all, and were now working with a rogue military unit called Reaper's Brigade. Even here life still held shocking surprises for him: the Brigade was headed by his own long-thought-dead brother, Ghost. The very same brother who was now conquering all of reality. Before he was able to destroy Ghost's organization, Talon was called back to Trussia to deal with another "ghost": The best friend of Trussia's emperor, betrayed and back for revenge. The war against this Rutherford was long and hard, and, from the few news reports Talon could pick up, things weren't much better on Earth either: In addition to Reaper's Brigade, and all manner of other nefarious factions, cities around the globe were being besieged by super villains. That had been last year. Much to Talon's joy, the Paw Patrol had rose to the occasion, incarcerating every villain they caught... just in time for Reaper's Brigade, now reborn as Corpus, to sweep across the world, conquering everything in it's path. Trussia tried to assist, but they were still reeling from the losses inflicted by Rutherford, and against a foe as powerful as Corpus, they could only stand for so long. And so, here it was, Corpus rapidly expanding throughout the known and unknown universe, with only small pockets of resistance hiding in the shadows. Talon was a member of one of these cells, collectively known as Stronghold, and had been sent to meet up with members of another cell. Members who just so happened to be old, old friends... ___ Talon suddenly awoke as the transport jolted to a stop. He'd somehow managed to fall asleep after all. The doors to the cabin slid open, and a canine in a black jumpsuit, mask, and goggles entered. Talon recognized the uniform as belonging to an agent of R.O.P.E., an intelligence organization from Earth before the Rise. "Good to know they're still kickin'," thought the bloodhound. Not that it mattered. Even if Stronghold somehow overthrew Corpus- and that was a gigantic "if"- Earth had been depleted of all resources. Even the planet's oceans were either barren wastelands, or so full of industrial by-product that there probably wasn't even any real water left. The only reason anyone still fought against them was on the classic grounds of "Good vs Evil". Unfortunately, having the moral high-ground didn't supply ammo, or troops, or vehicles. It mainly only gave hope, but even that was starting to run out these days. But, if anyone could find hope in this situation, Talon knew it would be the Patrol. "Sir?" Talon shook his head and blinked, breaking his reverie. "Yeah. Sorry, mate. Still a little tired," he explained to the agent. The agent/pilot nodded, then motioned Talon to follow him. The agent led Talon through a door, down a ladder, and into a cargo hold, one of the wall's of which was a loading ramp, and the only exit out of the transport other than an airlock. The masked canine pulled a lever, above which was a piece of duct-tape that had the words "Ramp Control" scribbled on it. Nothing happened. The agent tried the lever again. Still nothing. The agent quickly pushed aside a small rusted panel next to the lever, revealing a multitude of different colored wires, and some wires that had no cover at all. "Gimme a second," stated the agent, as he began to fiddle with the machinery. Talon nodded, a slight feeling of despair creeping upon him. How was Stronghold supposed to win a war against an armada of almost planet-sized war ships if they didn't even have to supplies to create a properly opening door? "So, I hear you're meeting the Paw Patrol," said the agent, still unplugging and plugging various wires. "That's true." The agent sighed slightly, but did not stop his task. "I should warn you: R.O.P.E. had a great deal of contact with them during the super-villian attacks. I never met any of them personally, but from some old reports I've read..." Talon looked distraught. "Had one of them died?" "They may not be same pups you once knew. There!" He slid the panel back into place, and pulled the lever. With a loud creak and clank, the ramp began to move, revealing a Corpus warehouse, abandoned since the work for the accompanying factory had been assigned elsewhere. Talon stepped out from the transport and looked around. They were inside a massive, transparent, force-field dome, which protected the city inside of it from both the harsh elements of the alien world outside, and any attacks made by Stronghold forces. Had the factory still been operational, security to get past the dome would've necessitated the meeting be held elsewhere, but the Nexus council apparently didn't see any point in diverting extra security to a city that no longer produced. Talon took a deep breath, smiled, and walked into the warehouse. ___ The bloodhound walked through the corridors and down stairways of the multilevel storage facility, finally reaching an observation room. Talon paused, took another deep breath, and put a paw on the plasma pistol holstered on his left leg. One could never be too careful these days. He pressed the button to open the door, and walked through. "The soldier lives," a familiar voice said almost instantly. A german shepherd stepped out of the shadows of the room's back wall. Talon barely recognized the uniform; a blue jumpsuit, with a layer of white and red armor over it, and a helmet similar to Ryder's. But Talon knew the face. Chase, the Paw Patrol's police pup- a former position, if the uniform was any indication- and perhaps the pup Talon was closest to. The shepherd and bloodhound embraced each other like long-lost brothers- which they almost were. "Got yourself a promotion I see," Talon said, gesturing to Chases new suit. Before the former police pup could answer, a second figure stepped from the shadows. "A hard earned promotion to leader of the Paw Patrol? Yeah, let's go with that..." finished Ryder, bitterly. He and Chase scowled at each other for a few seconds, allow Talon to look at Zachary Ryder's new uniform. The boy, now fifteen years old, sported almost exactly the same apparel as his twin brother, Chase "Ranger" Ryder, much to Talon's concern. But where Ranger's uniform was jet-black, Zach's was blinding white. "Where's all my other mates?" asked Talon, breaking the staring contest between his two friends. He'd expected the room to be full of them, all eagerly awaiting his arrival as they had at the Adventure Bay train station in years past. "We were sent ahead to scout for Corpus guards," Chase explained, "The others should be along any minute now." As if on cue, the doors, opposite to the ones Talon had come through, opened up. "It really is you..." said a gray mix-breed with orange eyes and cowboy-like attire. "Talon! Gweat to see you again, dude!" shouted a chocolate labrador in orange armor. "No one ever just... stays dead anymore," grumbled a dalmatian in red armor, who was crawling on all fours. More soon...